


i know (i'm a little delusional)

by areyouevenrealbro



Series: loyalty [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Bikers, Cocaine, F/F, a prob excessive amount of cigarettes, but nobody actually does the cocaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 17:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyouevenrealbro/pseuds/areyouevenrealbro
Summary: auston asks, once, if she ever wishes that they would stick in one place longer than a few weeks.(or, mitch is living in a lana del rey music video.)





	i know (i'm a little delusional)

**Author's Note:**

> every time i write for this verse i put lana del rey's 'ride' music vid on repeat lol  
little to no editing btw, #sorryboutit
> 
> title is from a mary lambert song that i can't remember the name of

Auston asks, once, if she ever wishes that they would stick in one place longer than a few weeks. 

They’re in a motel; Mitch doesn’t know where. She used to try to keep track of the state lines that they crossed, even going so far as to keep a journal of it, but the highways they ride along are so deserted and dark that it became nearly impossible to figure out. Now, instead of focusing on highway signs and numbers, Mitch focuses on the way the engine of Auston’s bike rumbles under her seat; the way Auston’s leather feels under her cheek.

She assumes, by the cacti and dust storms that they’ve been seeing, that they’re somewhere in Texas; maybe New Mexico. They’ve been there for a few days now, long enough to settle into a routine. Auston goes out during the day with Pat, Fred, and Mo, brushing Mitch off whenever she asks where they’re going with a dismissive “it’s business, Mitchy, nothing that concerns you.”

Mitch would be more offended if the way that Auston kisses her stupid afterwards didn’t take away the smart of it. 

While they’re gone, she stays in bed in their dingy motel room, dozing and watching television all day. At night, when they come back and the sun starts to fall behind the horizon, they ride.

Mitch totes her vodka with her, and lets the cool air whip through her hair and across her face. It makes goosebumps rise along her legs, her only source of warmth being the alcohol she put in her stomach and Auston’s body pressed flush to her front.

They often find themselves at bars or clearings in the middle of nowhere, staying until the wee hours of the morning, talking and drinking and laughing over each other for hours. 

By the next week, they’re on the road again, off to the next location to do it all over again.

They avoid cities, and although Auston tells her that it’s because of the pollution and the way the roads aren’t exactly biker-friendly, Mitch knows that it’s because of the higher concentration of cops. She’s not stupid enough to think that whatever Auston is doing is squeaky clean; she knows there’s a reason that she doesn’t tell Mitch where she goes all day.

She could press Auston about it, but it’s not even worth the fight that would ensue. Besides, it’s not like Mitch doesn’t keep her own secrets. She knows Aus is dying to figure out why she ran, but she hasn’t tried to get it out of Mitch - yet. It’s unspoken, but they both know that their secrets are secrets for a reason. They’re on a need-to-know basis.

That’s why when Auston asks if Mitch ever wants to slow down, it catches her completely off guard. She frowns down at her. “What would make you think that?”

Auston has this ability to smooth her face into severe indifference. It drives Mitch crazy. “I don’t think anything. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Mitch rolls her eyes and leans over to ash her cigarette into the tray on the bedside table. Her knee must bump Auston’s side, because she makes a hard _oof_ sound as Mitch settles back on top of her. “I thought that settling isn’t exactly what you guys _do_.”

Auston snorts, rolling her eyes and letting her hands rest on the dip of Mitch’s waist. Her hair is splayed out around her on the pillow; absently, Mitch thinks it looks like a halo.

Mitch’s words are a callback to when she had first asked about their nomadic tendencies, way back when she had first taken Auston’s hand and jumped on the back of her bike in the parking lot of that little dive bar. She left her old self back there, and as they sped away, she wondered if she would end up regretting it. 

She still doesn’t have an answer.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Auston breaks Mitch out of her thoughts. She parts her lips, and Mitch takes the invitation for what it is. She takes a drag and leans down, letting their lips brush just the barest bit and placing a steadying hand on the mattress beside her head, and blowing her smoke into the hazy space between them. Auston cranes her neck, trying to catch Mitch’s lips with her own, but Mitch pulls back at the last second. She smiles down at Auston, placing her cigarette happily back between her own lips.

Auston pouts. “No fair.”

“Tough.”

Auston sighs. “I’m serious,” she says. “Is that something you would want?”

“I’m not a fortune teller, Auston,” Mitch retorts. “Maybe someday, I don’t know. Not anytime soon.”

If Mitch hadn’t spent nearly every free moment with her for the last few months, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the way the skin around her eyes and mouth relaxed.

Mitch cocks her head. “Is that something that’s been bothering you?”

“Nothing bothers me,” Auston deadpans immediately. Mitch shoots her a withering look.

It’s a blatant lie, but Mitch doesn’t comment on it; her face says it all.

Mitch leans over to stub out her cigarette, this time mindful of her limbs. Then, she wiggles until she can fit under Auston’s chin comfortably. Auston breaths out, heavy, but it’s fond. Her arms settle around her.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Mitch whispers. The warm afternoon sun is filtering through the window blinds and the cracked ceiling fan is swinging lazy circles, giving the room a hazy feeling. Like the world doesn’t exist outside the door; like it’s just her and Auston and nothing else.

“Alright, Mitchy,” Auston murmurs back. “Okay.”

***

It’s cocaine. They’re moving _fucking_ cocaine.

***

“You know, when you said that you were gonna let me start seeing the business side of things, this isn’t exactly what I was expecting,” Mitch stares at the neat stacks of kilos on the picnic table in front of her. They’re somewhere in the pacific northwest, on a nearly deserted campground.

Auston raises an eyebrow. “Expect the unexpected.”

“Lame,” Mitch quips. She’s not freaking out, but she’s not...not freaking out.

Auston’s looking at her like she knows exactly what Mitch is thinking. “Hey,” she finally says. “C’mere.”

Mitch goes into her arms easily. The white of the powder reflects the moonlight. Auston presses her lips to the crown of her head and slips her hand into the back pocket of Mitch’s black skinny jeans.

Mitch sighs. “Why are you showing me this?”

“I need your help with something,” Auston says, voice purposefully void of inflection.

They look back at the bricks. Mitch sighs again.

***

The casino is smoky and dimly lit when Mitch walks through the door. Her heels are tall enough that anyone else would be tottering, but she walks with an ease that turns heads as she passes. It’s a power trip.

She can see Auston from across the room, sipping her whiskey with hooded eyes. Her gaze sends shivers up Mitch’s spine, and she has to look away. The low press of arousal is beginning to rise in her stomach, and they don’t mix well with the nerves already settled there.

Mitch is the distraction. She’s here to make sure that all eyes are on her so that Auston and Fred can move the shipment to the people they’re there to meet. She catches the bartender’s eye and orders a vodka sour, then turns to lean against the bar and surveys the room.

Even the security guards can’t seem to keep their eyes off of her. Her chest isn’t covered by anything more than a lacy black bodysuit, her nipples pebbled in the cool air. Her trousers are pure white and wide legged, and her nails are freshly done a cherry red.

The bartender slides her her drink with a lingering look. She flashes a brilliant smile, then tosses her hair and straightens.

She has a job to do.

***

(Auston isn’t one for jealousy, but she also hasn’t ever had to watch her girlfriend pull out a cigarette and have multiple men offer lighters to her.

Mitch is working the tables the way they’d discussed, buying in and winning hand after hand. She blows a curl of smoke into a man that leans in too close for her (and Auston’s) comfort, but offers a megawatt smile to soften it.

Everyone is melting for her, and the security guards can see it. They’re circling her like sharks, keeping their distance but sticking close enough to make sure she hasn’t developed any sticky fingers.

Mitch pushes a carefully curled strand of hair away from her face and looks at the dealer through her lashes. Auston swallows audibly.

Fred scoffs next to her. “Heads up.”

Auston glances at the door, where their targets have just walked in. She sits up and lifts her chin to greet them.

At the table, Mitch peeks at her cards and ups the ante by two thousand.)

***

Mitch knows the deal is done once everyone at Auston’s table rises. Just in time, too; the security guards are starting to lose interest, realizing that she’s not cheating. 

Auston’s three guests slip out, two black duffel bags over two their shoulders. Nobody stops them. Auston and Fred don’t bother sitting back down; Mitch lets herself take a moment to appreciate the view. Auston’s suit is pressed out, jet black and crisp. Her dress shirt is open down to the middle of her chest, and she’s wearing her loafers without socks.

It’s not often that she sees her out of her black skinny jeans and leather vest. Auston’s been appreciating her all night; she figures she can return the favor.

Her and Fred approach the table and linger behind her. It makes Mitch smile; at least she gets to finish her hand.

“Alright,” the guy that’s been trying to get into her pants all night says. “I’m all in on this.”

He pushes his hefty collection of chips to the center of the table while Mitch pretends to think. She pouts, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“You’re not making things very easy, are you Brad?” She sighs. “But I’ve got to leave, so what the hell.” She pushes her equally as impressive stack into the center to match him.

“Alright,” the dealer’s eyes flicker between them. “Let’s see ‘em.”

Brad flips his cards proudly. Four of a kind. Aces.

Mitch leans forward, blowing smoke. Then, she flips.

Auston laughs behind her, bright and free. Even Freddie lets out a huff of amusement. Brad groans, dropping his head into his hands. The faces of her royal straight flush taunt him.

She smiles sweetly and collects her chips.

***

As soon as they shut their door, Auston has her up against it, desperate, running her hands over Mitch’s body. She hikes Mitch’s thigh up around her waist and presses her own thigh to Mitch’s center.

Mitch laughs when Auston mouths at her neck. “If I - _fuck_, that tickles - if I had known that you seeing me win would get you like this, I would’ve made you take me sooner.”

Aus pulls away and looks at her, pupils blown. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Mitch shrieks with laughter when Auston picks her up and throws her down onto the bed once they reach it, bouncing as she goes. It turns into a groan when she unzips the zipper of Mitch’s pants and strips them down her legs.

That gets Mitch with the program, finally. She yanks Auston’s shirt open; she hears the buttons hit the walls, but she can’t bring herself to particularly care. The room is cold, and she’s all too aware of the way the intricate lace feels on her skin.

“You look,” Auston starts, but trails off. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea.” Mitch lifts herself onto her elbows and spreads her legs faux innocently. “Get the strap.”

Auston almost trips with how fast she tries to get to her bag.

***

Later, when they’re tangled up in sweat-damp sheets and each other, Mitch asks. “Why’d you keep me from the business side of things for so long.”

Auston breathes out smoke and passes the cigarette to Mitch. It’s a thinly veiled effort to buy time. “Plausible deniability,” she finally says.

Mitch snorts. “In what sense?”

Auston turns her head to look at her. Even in the dark of the room, Mitch can see her eyes, huge and earnest. “If you saw what I was really doing, you’d really be a part of it. And once you’re a part of it, there’s - you don’t turn back from this shit.”

“And you made me a part of it anyways?” 

Auston turns back to staring at the ceiling. “Yeah,” she laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it. “Is that fucked up?”

The question feels too loud in the quiet of the room. The AC kicks on in the corner. “I’m the one who agreed to help,” Mitch says.

Auston tightens her arm around Mitch and takes the cigarette when she hands it back to her. It’s a few minutes before she speaks. “Maybe we’re both fucked up.”

Behind the curtain, the sun breaches the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> please remember to leave a comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> find me on tumblr at: @ohmymarnthews


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